


My Home is With (All of) You

by lavenderlotion



Series: His Glossy Lips, So Sweet to Kiss [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Feels, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Wears Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 00:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “I'm so happy to be home,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, and he let himself get lost in the warmth that surrounded him.





	My Home is With (All of) You

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the amazing [AuguriesofInnocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence)!

Stiles didn't stick around the loft long before leaving. He felt uncomfortable with the way the pack was staring at him, watching him, gazes sharp and expressions guarded. It made him feel like he was intruding, somehow; he certainly felt like he wasn't welcome. There was a disgust in Jackson's eyes that made him uncomfortable, and Isaac's face was twisted into a cruel smile. It hurt, knowing that there were members of what was supposed to be his pack that didn't accept him.

None of them had asked for the explanation that Stiles had been dreading because none of them said anything. Erica had dragged him into the kitchen to get him something to drink, laughing when he insisted on having a straw to save his lip gloss. Boyd and Peter hung back as he and Erica chatted about his makeup, but even from the kitchen, away from the rest of his—no,  _ not his— _ pack, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin; a feeling he had promised himself he would never allow anyone to make him feel again.

When he left, bidding Scott a  perfunctory goodbye, he was surprised when Erica, Boyd and Peter followed him out of the loft. He hadn't expected them to leave with him, but he couldn't say that he wasn't glad that they did. The bonds he shared with them were warm where they sat inside his chest, making him feel at home in the same way hugging his father had. His bond with Peter pulsed the strongest, warm affection and something  _ more  _ running along between them.

They piled into his jeep, Peter calling shotgun and forcing his way into the front with a snarky comment and a flash of his eyes—an action which made Stiles laugh. Instead of driving straight home as he had first planned, Stiles stopped for ice cream. It was summer, after all, and it had been far too long since the last time he had been in Beacon Hills.

He wasn't ignorant to the eyes that followed him as he walked into the small shop. He had long since gotten used to being stared at, and Beacon Hills was an even smaller town than the college town he’d gotten used to in the last few months. Despite how openly accepting Beacon Hills had always been, a boy walking around in a full face of makeup and a crop top was pushing the limits. No one said  anything, though they got their ice cream to go.

Stiles led  _ his pack _ into his house, joking and teasing and catching up. There wasn't much catching up to be done with Peter, not with how often they talked, but Stiles found that he had fallen behind with Erica and Boyd over the last few months. He felt guilty for  it, as he sat on the side of the couch with Erica's feet in his lap. She was talking quickly, filling him in on the college program she had started in January; nursing, and while it wasn't what he had expected he couldn't say that he was surprised.

It fit her and the kind heart she hid under the clothing she wore like armour. Stiles knew how much it must mean to her, after everything that she had gone through growing up, and he was glad that she was enjoying it so much. She lit up as she spoke, waving her arms as she explained all that she was doing.

Boyd was in a culinary program, something Stiles had known but found he hadn't had the time to ask about. He listened to their stories, enjoying how happy they both sounded as they talked about their school. None of them had had an easy time during high school, and it seemed that they were all flourishing during post-secondary.

Peter sat in his dad's armchair, throwing in little details when Erica or Boyd told him about something that had happened to the town or to the pack. It seemed that Beacon Hills had calmed down on the supernatural front, but  every now and then something would blow through that they had to deal with. Stiles knew the philosophies that Scott held in an iron grip, and he wondered after what happened to those creatures, especially when it resulted in a death.

There was a beat of silence before Erica said, “Peter is vicious,” her red lips titled into a delighted grin. Stiles was sure he could see the faintest flush colouring Peter's cheeks along the edges of his beard.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Peter told her, and Stiles raised an eyebrow at the smirk that accompanied the statement. Peter sent him a soft smile, one Stiles felt like he could get lost in, before Erica kept going.

They continued to catch up, Boyd getting up to make them something to eat as the hours passed. Stiles loved how it felt to be with his pack, the way he could feel their bonds inside of his chest and how it felt to be so close to them all. He hadn't realized just how taxing it had been being away, how tiring the distance was on him and strained their bonds had been. It just made him more sure in his decision  to fast-track his degree, and he was already thinking about ways he could graduate even faster.

By the time his dad got home, the sun had set and they were all snuggled onto the couch together, wrapped around each other in a pile of connected limbs. Stiles used the pack pile as an excuse  to blatantly cuddle with Peter, and the man's chest was currently acting as a very comfortable and very warm pillow. Dad did nothing more than raise a brow at the arrangement before he joined them in the living room, sitting on his armchair with the leftovers Boyd had saved for him.

* * *

When Stiles woke up, he was in his bed, Boyd and Erica on either side of him. It was a familiar position, one he had woken up in almost every day of junior and then senior year. The three of them, for a while, hadn't been able to sleep alone—hell, they hadn't been able to do  _ anything _ alone for those first few weeks. He was so thankful that they were better now, and he happily cuddled up between them.

“You're getting makeup on my shirt,” Erica muttered from above him, and Stiles groaned, pressing his face further into her bosom. God, it felt like he hadn't slept in  _ months _ , and all he wanted to do was fall back into the comforting nothingness of sleep. Erica, apparently, did not endorse that plan. She groaned, slapping his back and saying, “ C'mon , I want breakfast.”

Stiles grumbled some more, but he eventually rolled over her and off the bed. It earned him a screech that hurt his ears but it was definitely worth it, and he laughed his way into his bathroom. He got started on his makeup removing routine as he did his best to ignore the creeping doubt he was feeling. Last night had been amazing, having his entire pack around him and then later, being so close to Peter.

Their bond had sung with warm affection between them, and Stiles had fallen asleep wrapped up in Peter. Waking up without him had him...well, it had him feeling unsure. They had never discussed what they were or what they were going to be or what they  _ wanted _ to be, but Stiles had been sure that they had been on the same page for the last few months, even more so after how Peter had initially reacted to him yesterday.

Stiles sighed, stepping into the shower and letting the hot water wash away the tension that he had built up along his shoulders. It wasn't worth thinking about it, at least not now. He wanted to focus on how good it felt to be home and how amazing it was to be back with his pack. Nothing else mattered, not this morning, and he finished his shower with a smile that was only slightly forced.

He towelled his hair off as he walked into his room, digging through one of the suitcases he had yet to unpack for a pair of briefs and some fitted joggers. He knew he should unpack soon, considering he was going to be here for a few months, but it felt like such a daunting task with the extra suitcase he'd had to buy to bring home all his new clothing and the carry on for his makeup.

Stiles decided to forgo makeup for now, grabbing his phone before he made his way downstairs. There was a good morning text waiting from Peter, something the man had begun doing a few weeks ago and then never stopped. It made Stiles smile, now, as he knew it was in response to the way he had been feeling earlier. He typed out a response, hitting send as he walked into the kitchen.

Boyd was standing at the stove cooking, and the room smelt great. Erica was sitting on the counter, cup of coffee in her hand as she talked with Dad. The scene made him smile even as his heart ached, realizing just how much he had missed this, missed them. It was easy to push it all away when he was in the middle of it, drowning in coursework and doing his best to keep his head above water. Now, it all hit him at once, how lonely he'd felt since he went away.

Erica turned as he stepped into the room, and she whistled loudly, her eyes tracking over his bare chest. “Damn, Batman, you got  _ hot _ !”

Stiles let out a wet laugh the quickly dissolved into a sob. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes stinging with tears before they spilled over. Erica hopped off the counter and hurried over to him, her voice softer when she asked, “Batman, why are you crying?” 

Stiles wiped at his eyes, and she was already there when he opened up his arms. He buried his face in her hair, letting her familiar scent comfort him. These three were his family, were all that he had, and being away from them for so long had hurt so much, much more than Stiles had ever allowed himself to realize. He hugged Erica tightly, only crying harder when Boyd wrapped his big arms around the both of them to hold them tightly.

“I'm so happy to be home,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, and he let himself get lost in the warmth that surrounded him.

* * *

Stiles parked in the visitors parking of one of Beacon Hills more prestigious apartment buildings, locking his car as he walked confidently into the building. A flick of his wrist and a little belief was all it took for the front doors to open, and when he held up his phone, he knew the man at the front desk would see a standard key card that any other occupant would have.

It hadn't been hard to find Peter's address. He wasn't sure if the man had been hiding, but since his address was legally registered, Stiles figured he couldn't be trying too hard to keep it a secret. He didn't feel bad just showing up, not when he hadn't seen Peter since the night before. Yes, Stiles had an amazing day with Erica and Boyd, but he had wished for Peter to be there with them the entire time they were out.

Peter was part of their pack, and they were  _ something _ , and Stiles wanted to see him. He knocked on the apartment door, doing his best to stand confidently and not let age-old insecurities rise up and make him question himself. He knew that he looked good; his makeup was fresh and dewy and his outfit was simple, tight jeans and an oversized shirt.

Stiles waited, holding back the temptation to knock on the door again, and he breathed deeply to calm his nerves. Finally, Peter opened the door, his raised eyebrow and obnoxious smirk both falling into a slightly stunned expression. Peter didn't say anything for a long moment, his eyes tracking over Stiles' face and up and down his body with enough intensity that Stiles blushed. He fidgeted, his fingers tapping out a quick rhythm against his thighs.

Peter took a deep breath before saying, “You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, hardly more than a whisper, as his heart sped up in his chest.

“I was just about to start on dinner, would you like to join me?” Peter asked, stepping aside and holding the door open wider.

Stiles stepped inside, his body tingling when strange magic tickled over his skin, and he cocked his head. “I would love to have dinner with you, so long as you tell me who warded your apartment.”

Peter hummed as he closed the door, his eyes still running along Stiles' body as though he didn’t quite believe that Stiles was there. “An old friend of mine.”

“I hope you didn't pay them much,” Stiles mumbled, then reached inside himself for the soft glow that was his spark. 

He focused inward, tracing the lines of foreign magic around the walls and then, with a snap of his finger, breaking them apart easily. His magic swirled within him as he mumbled under his breath, speaking incantations as the runes along his arm began to glow—both forms of magic mixing with his spark and strengthening his power.

When he was finished surrounding Peter’s apartment with a framework of magic, he let his power drop, his spark fading into a quiet hum under his skin. Peter was watching him, both eyebrows raised high on his forehead, his gaze appraising. 

“That was magnificent, darling,” Peter told him, his voice a hoarse, rumbling purr that made Stiles blush again. “Thank you very much.”

Stiles gave him a soft smile and then stepped closer, taking a deep breath as he boldly reached out and tangled a hand into the hem of Peter's shirt. He tugged, pulling him closer, and Peter came easily. Stiles melted into the hug that Peter wrapped him in effortlessly, fitting against him like he was made to be there. He wrapped his own arms around Peter's waist, his chest feeling just as tight as it had that morning.

Talking to Peter had been amazing, and they had gotten  _ so close _ while Stiles had been away. It had been easier, ignoring the way he missed Peter, as they hadn’t been close before he left. But now, standing in the circle of Peter’s arms, he knew that next year was going to be hell, having to give this all up. 

Peter was making a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through Stiles' body. It made him smile, snuggling deeper into the hold Peter had him in. Peter smelt amazing, and Stiles rubbed his nose along the low v of Peter's shirt, breathing him in directly. He was warm, his supernatural warmth coupled with the soft affection he was sending along their bond. It was an even better hug than the one they had shared yesterday, and Stiles smiled as Peter held him tighter.

Finally, they pulled away, and there was nothing awkward about the soft smile they shared. Peter led him through his apartment, and Stiles looked around with wide eyes. It was far...homier than anything Stiles could have ever expected. Done up in earth tones, the living room was fitted with furniture that looked like it had more to do with comfort than it did style.

There was art lining the walls and shelves filled with books and  knick -knacks. Stiles desperately wanted to explore, but he followed Peter down the hall and into the kitchen that was more what Stiles had been expecting. A large marble island, chrome appliances, and a coffee maker that looked more like it should be in a coffee shop than an apartment. 

“This place is really nice,” Stiles told him as he hopped onto the kitchen island, sticking out his tongue when Peter gave him a dirty look.

“Thank you,” Peter told him, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a recipe book. He sat it on the counter beside Stiles' leg and flipped it open, his hand settling comfortably on Stiles' thigh. “So, what are we going to make?” 

Stiles smiled, his lips twisting so far that his cheeks ached. Peter flipped through the recipe book until they found something they both thought sounded good. Cooking with Peter was amazing. Stiles hadn’t cooked alongside someone since his mother passed away, and it made his heart feel so full that his chest hurt. 

They traded easy banter. Stiles often found himself staring, taking in the changes that Peter had gone through during his months away. Peter had told him that training with Derek was something he was doing in an attempt to repair their relationship. It was certainly paying off, in Stiles’ opinion, and he enjoyed the way Peter’s shirts stretched over his chest. 

The beard was a nice addition too. Stiles had a  _ thing  _ for facial hair, and the neatly groomed beard that Peter was now sporting was doing many, many things for him. He knew that as much as he was staring, Peter was too. He could feel the wolf’s eyes on him every time he looked away, and it felt silly, how they were dancing around one another. 

There was so much between them that Stiles felt terrified. Peter meant so much to him, more than anyone else, and when he really thought about it, it left Stiles breathless with anticipation. There was so much that could go wrong, their pasts and the age difference and the thousands of reasons that they shouldn't even try for anything more.

But Stiles wanted. He wanted Peter and he wanted everything that they could have together. It didn’t matter how scared he was, or how badly they could hurt each other, because he knew it could be  _ so good _ . Stiles wanted to give that a shot, and he had to hope that Peter did too. 

It was easy to imagine he  did, as they set the table together. There was tension between them, but it was a comforting sort of thing that promised more. They sat across from each other at Peter’s little table, and Stiles let his leg slide forward, his socked foot resting Peter’s ankle. Peter sent him a teasing sort of smile and Stiles dragged his foot higher, wrapping it around Peter’s ankle and tugging his leg a bit closer as he cut into his chicken with a smile. 

“Would you like to watch a movie, darling?” Peter asked him when they were finished eating, and Stiles’ didn’t miss the note of hesitance to his voice. Stiles knew that there wasn’t anything casual about dinner and a movie, and he readily said yes. 

Peter was comfortable, and just like last night Stiles settled easily against his chest. He worried for a moment about the makeup he would be leaving on Peter’s shirt before Peter pulled him in tighter, obviously uncaring. The TV was playing something in front of them, but Stiles didn’t pay it any mind, not when he was wrapped up in Peter. 

It was late by the time the movie ended, and Stiles said he should leave before either of them offered anything they weren’t ready for. It was hard peeling himself out of Peter’s hold, and the man walked him to the front door. Neither of them said anything, but the shift in their relationship was easy to feel. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. Tonight was wonderful,” Peter told him, and Stiles heard all the things that he didn’t say.

Stiles reached behind himself to open the door, and then in a bout of courage he pressed in for a kiss. The press of their lips was chaste and gentle, and Stiles thumbed over Peter’s cheekbone and their closed mouths moved together for a long moment. His fingers laid against Peter’s check, his beard tickling his palm, and one of Peter’s hands fisted into the back of his shirt.

By the time Stiles pulled back enough to rest their foreheads together, he was breathless from the kiss and the giddy excitement that was racing through him. It felt like he could fly away, with how happy he was, and Peter’s eyes were glowing blue and wrinkling around the corners.

“Goodnight,” Stiles whispered against his mouth, stepping back with a smile just as wide as the one mirrored on Peter’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my dreamwidth](https://lavenderlotion.dreamwidth.org/) and my [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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